Leaving the hospital during the witching hour, I couldn't imagine going to sleep. I was aware of my exhaustion but awake, alert and ready to handle anything. I didn't know if they'd give us our baby. I didn't know if she was completely healthy. I was forced to leave her mother alone in a hospital room crying. How was I supposed to sleep?
I entered our apartment and was instantly reminded of the previous morning. It was like seeing years into the past. Everything had a different meaning. It was like walking into my childhood bedroom.
I was afraid to fall asleep. What if I overslept? I had never felt this sort of exhaustion before. I knew my girlfriend was wide awake. Alone. Thinking about me and our daughter and scared. If I wasn't with her at seven in the morning, I would fail to keep my first official promise as a father. I set two clocks and in the blink of an eye, I was up and leaving the house.
When I got to the hospital, I was happy we were together again, but still no baby and still no word. We could have been frantic, worried, demanding and panicked. But we had distractions. At last, we both had our phones, charged and ready, with a lot of explaining to do.
And the calls began. I could easily predict my parents' reactions but we were both a bit anxious about telling her parents. "Do you think they'll be mad? I don't think they'll be mad. They can't be mad, this was a miracle. Right?" Her mom had to take it in, collect her thoughts and call back. But she wasn't mad.
Everyone reacted with shock as I retold the story a half dozen times. Everyone was supportive and beautiful and for that I'll always be thankful. I remember talking to my best friend, telling him the tale, staring out the lounge window, drinking a cup of coffee and feeling like everything was all right; I had always known. I stood in amazement and felt the peace that passes all understanding. And cried.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Dinner for One: Chilled Iceberg Sandwich
On this evening's menu we have chilled Iceberg lettuce on fluffly whole white bread with yellow American cheese and full-flavor mayo. Sparked it up with a sprinkle of dill weed. Full of fiber! Enjoy at home or with a friend!
Tip: When a road trip is involved, buy the squeezable mayo and ditch the knife!
Friday, March 14, 2014
March 20th, 2013 Part V
Visiting hours in the maternity ward ended at ten o'clock. We ignored this rule. She tried to sleep but was frightened of them separating us. We didn't have custody of our baby, we didn't have our phones, we didn't have any family here but we had each other.
We weren't caught until midnight and, even then, I just pretended to leave. It wasn't until two o'clock that the rule was actually enforced. I saw intense sadness on my girlfriend's face as her eyes filled with tears and her lips turned into the heartbreaking frown I had seldom seen before. I'm still disappointed that no consideration for our situation was made. But this wasn't hospice and the staff had no awareness.
I didn't feel much compassion from the nurse in charge as I plead my case. "The fathers spend the night at home, you need sleep. She'll be here in the morning," she said. I calmly told her,"But I bet every other family in here knew they were having a baby before this morning. She has separation anxiety and will cry if I leave." The nurse lightened up a little. She said I could come back at seven in the morning instead of ten.
Leaving that night was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
We weren't caught until midnight and, even then, I just pretended to leave. It wasn't until two o'clock that the rule was actually enforced. I saw intense sadness on my girlfriend's face as her eyes filled with tears and her lips turned into the heartbreaking frown I had seldom seen before. I'm still disappointed that no consideration for our situation was made. But this wasn't hospice and the staff had no awareness.
I didn't feel much compassion from the nurse in charge as I plead my case. "The fathers spend the night at home, you need sleep. She'll be here in the morning," she said. I calmly told her,"But I bet every other family in here knew they were having a baby before this morning. She has separation anxiety and will cry if I leave." The nurse lightened up a little. She said I could come back at seven in the morning instead of ten.
Leaving that night was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Dinner for One
Sunday, March 9, 2014
March 20th, 2013 Part IV
We looked at each other for the first time as mother and father. She looked so scared. I probably did too. I shook my head in shock and disbelief. But it also with happiness, excitement and love. I wanted to talk to the mother of my daughter. I wanted to hug her and kiss her and protect her forever. As the commotion resided, I kissed her and told her I loved her. I was overcome with pure joy and love.
"She's an Aries," I said. Through the all the emotions, all the millions of thoughts and expressions, this is one of the earliest things I said. Through the gravity of what had just happened, my mind managed to avoid negativity and sprout a light hearted sentiment. Life is full of ups and downs. Something inside of me decided, this experience was going to be an 'up.' I say 'something' because it wasn't me. My self is a usually a worried, negative being. Something inside of me awakened and I felt a strength like I had never felt before. I knew everything would be okay and that my actions, in the face of fear, would be effective and meaningful.
And then we waited. As we were alone, reality began to sink in. My mind was calm. There was no worry. Instead, clear contemplation and decisiveness. We chose to call my sister first; we knew she could keep a secret. Telling our parents would take... more time. More delicate explanation. And then we waited.
Good news. Before we had a room in the maternity ward, our baby was out of the ICU and into the nursery; as far as they could tell, she was a perfectly healthy, slightly small, baby girl. You might think this was a relief but it wasn't. All things considered, being completely unprepared, would they let us have our baby? Though we both considered the possibility she would be kept from us, we didn't dwell on it. It would have been too painful. There was so much to be thankful for.
And then we waited. A few hours passed. We got a room in the early afternoon and waited. With no updates from the staff, no contact with the outside world, we waited all day. It was as if we were forgotten.
"They're doing tests on her," they said,"we will bring her in when they're done," they said. Why was it taking so long? It had been ten hours since her birth and that was all the information we could get.
Since I was able to walk, I walked down to the nursery window and was able to see my daughter for the second time. She seemed so tiny at six pounds five ounces. This little part of me, bundled and sleeping, looked so peaceful. I teared up as I fell in love all over again. I realized that I had never actually been proud of anything else. Nothing in this world had ever made me feel so special. So confident and focused. I wanted so badly to bring her to her mother and couldn't stand waiting.
We weren't able to hold her on that first day. We occupied ourselves by planning. They kept our baby in the nursery and we finally found out that they were having trouble getting her urine sample. Most babies don't need one; those sorts of tests are usually taken care of prenatal. A bit of relief. But I wasn't going to be at ease until her mother was holding her and we were together as a family.
"She's an Aries," I said. Through the all the emotions, all the millions of thoughts and expressions, this is one of the earliest things I said. Through the gravity of what had just happened, my mind managed to avoid negativity and sprout a light hearted sentiment. Life is full of ups and downs. Something inside of me decided, this experience was going to be an 'up.' I say 'something' because it wasn't me. My self is a usually a worried, negative being. Something inside of me awakened and I felt a strength like I had never felt before. I knew everything would be okay and that my actions, in the face of fear, would be effective and meaningful.
And then we waited. As we were alone, reality began to sink in. My mind was calm. There was no worry. Instead, clear contemplation and decisiveness. We chose to call my sister first; we knew she could keep a secret. Telling our parents would take... more time. More delicate explanation. And then we waited.
Good news. Before we had a room in the maternity ward, our baby was out of the ICU and into the nursery; as far as they could tell, she was a perfectly healthy, slightly small, baby girl. You might think this was a relief but it wasn't. All things considered, being completely unprepared, would they let us have our baby? Though we both considered the possibility she would be kept from us, we didn't dwell on it. It would have been too painful. There was so much to be thankful for.
And then we waited. A few hours passed. We got a room in the early afternoon and waited. With no updates from the staff, no contact with the outside world, we waited all day. It was as if we were forgotten.
"They're doing tests on her," they said,"we will bring her in when they're done," they said. Why was it taking so long? It had been ten hours since her birth and that was all the information we could get.
Since I was able to walk, I walked down to the nursery window and was able to see my daughter for the second time. She seemed so tiny at six pounds five ounces. This little part of me, bundled and sleeping, looked so peaceful. I teared up as I fell in love all over again. I realized that I had never actually been proud of anything else. Nothing in this world had ever made me feel so special. So confident and focused. I wanted so badly to bring her to her mother and couldn't stand waiting.
We weren't able to hold her on that first day. We occupied ourselves by planning. They kept our baby in the nursery and we finally found out that they were having trouble getting her urine sample. Most babies don't need one; those sorts of tests are usually taken care of prenatal. A bit of relief. But I wasn't going to be at ease until her mother was holding her and we were together as a family.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
And Now for Something Completely Different...
I should disclaimer this entry. Disclaimer: Written from the perspective of an 18 year old me. Enough said.
As the last remnants of our Old Republic has been swept away by the Detroit scumbag Steve Yzerman, I find myself questioning my philosophy. Did I really love the Lightning? Or did I just love the mid-2000s? Of the team that I once loved more than my high school sweetheart, what is left? Not. A. Thing.
I accepted the uniforms. Even though they look like a cheap throwback knockoff. I even accepted trading away Lecavlier. LECAVLIER. He IS and always will be the REAL Lightning. I was still optimistic. But now. Now I can clearly see what professional hockey is all about. I wanted to remain a romantic. But forget that. My heart is dead.
I was the fool. I was the fool to believe anyone gave a damn about the fans. St.Louis didn't care. The organization doesn't give a damn. I don't blame Marty, he's just one man, with a family. This corporate factory called a 'team' is responsible for holding it together. But the owners and the scumbag Steve Yzerman only see bottom lines. They don't care about Tampa. They don't care about you. They have their mansions abroad. To them its just a job. They think the fans in Tampa are marks; they'll be there no matter what. Most of them are ignorant fools; is what they think. Disloyal Midwestern, Northeastern transplants. None of them really care about the Lightning, the history of the Lightning or the history of Tampa Bay sports. And they are absolutely right.
So I say forger Steve Yzerman, forget these owners who played the LOCAL born, LOYAL citizens of Tampa Bay for jerks and last of all, screw me for believing in professional American sports. I'm the fool for actually thinking any of it ever had any Hart or soul.
Go make your millions, hit your target, but I'll never be your mark again.
As the last remnants of our Old Republic has been swept away by the Detroit scumbag Steve Yzerman, I find myself questioning my philosophy. Did I really love the Lightning? Or did I just love the mid-2000s? Of the team that I once loved more than my high school sweetheart, what is left? Not. A. Thing.
I accepted the uniforms. Even though they look like a cheap throwback knockoff. I even accepted trading away Lecavlier. LECAVLIER. He IS and always will be the REAL Lightning. I was still optimistic. But now. Now I can clearly see what professional hockey is all about. I wanted to remain a romantic. But forget that. My heart is dead.
I was the fool. I was the fool to believe anyone gave a damn about the fans. St.Louis didn't care. The organization doesn't give a damn. I don't blame Marty, he's just one man, with a family. This corporate factory called a 'team' is responsible for holding it together. But the owners and the scumbag Steve Yzerman only see bottom lines. They don't care about Tampa. They don't care about you. They have their mansions abroad. To them its just a job. They think the fans in Tampa are marks; they'll be there no matter what. Most of them are ignorant fools; is what they think. Disloyal Midwestern, Northeastern transplants. None of them really care about the Lightning, the history of the Lightning or the history of Tampa Bay sports. And they are absolutely right.
So I say forger Steve Yzerman, forget these owners who played the LOCAL born, LOYAL citizens of Tampa Bay for jerks and last of all, screw me for believing in professional American sports. I'm the fool for actually thinking any of it ever had any Hart or soul.
Go make your millions, hit your target, but I'll never be your mark again.
March 20th, 2013 Part III
Six months. They estimated our baby had only been alive for six months. Of course this worried me but it was not quite as frightening as the prospect of the love of my life giving birth to a stillborn. Ectopic pregnancy is when the baby develops outside the womb and cannot survive. At least our baby had a heartbeat. But a baby born three months premature still seemed tragic and scary. I was kept separate from the birth, presumably, because of the high chance of tragedy.
Many scenarios crossed my mind. We didn't know our baby was there; if it was alive now, would it survive being born? Would it be in an incubator fighting for life until... No prenatal care, no concern for its health or well-being... It hadn't been growing with a heavy drinker, or a smoker, or a drug user but my mind scoured the last several months for all the mistakes I had made as I am sure my beautiful girlfriend was also doing. I prayed so hard for her. I knew that if this baby didn't make it, she would never be the same. The guilt would destroy her... and us.
"Maybe more like eight months," I heard as the delivering doctors and nurses encouraged and guided the birth. "Eight months!" I thought.
I heard 'pushes' and 'breathes' and seconds in between. By this time a crowd had developed; what seemed like half of the ER staff gathered around the spectacle: Doctors, nurses, and whoever else wanted to have an eventful day (no, I am not versed in hospital staff hierarchy). Most of them had no idea about the possible sadness they could be witnessing. I hear one girl say,"Ooooh! I wanna see a baby," in a bubble-filled voice.
Finally, I heard the most beautiful, surreal, egobreaking words a man will ever hear: "It's a girl!" And I heard her. And we heard the crowd cheer. They went wild. The female EMT, who held my girlfriend's hand during birth, cried real tears. For the first time, I heard the squeal of our miracle baby; crying like a normal baby.
"Come on," said Mike,"come see your daughter." I was frozen. She was in a bubble, moments after she was born. I was stunned. I moved when Mike told me to move. My mind was blank. She was going to be rushed to the ICU for obvious reasons. I was in awe and my thoughts were slow. We just had a baby. I walked through the crowd in time to see my daughter as she was pushed out of the room. She was so beautiful and looked just like her mother.
Many scenarios crossed my mind. We didn't know our baby was there; if it was alive now, would it survive being born? Would it be in an incubator fighting for life until... No prenatal care, no concern for its health or well-being... It hadn't been growing with a heavy drinker, or a smoker, or a drug user but my mind scoured the last several months for all the mistakes I had made as I am sure my beautiful girlfriend was also doing. I prayed so hard for her. I knew that if this baby didn't make it, she would never be the same. The guilt would destroy her... and us.
"Maybe more like eight months," I heard as the delivering doctors and nurses encouraged and guided the birth. "Eight months!" I thought.
I heard 'pushes' and 'breathes' and seconds in between. By this time a crowd had developed; what seemed like half of the ER staff gathered around the spectacle: Doctors, nurses, and whoever else wanted to have an eventful day (no, I am not versed in hospital staff hierarchy). Most of them had no idea about the possible sadness they could be witnessing. I hear one girl say,"Ooooh! I wanna see a baby," in a bubble-filled voice.
Finally, I heard the most beautiful, surreal, egobreaking words a man will ever hear: "It's a girl!" And I heard her. And we heard the crowd cheer. They went wild. The female EMT, who held my girlfriend's hand during birth, cried real tears. For the first time, I heard the squeal of our miracle baby; crying like a normal baby.
"Come on," said Mike,"come see your daughter." I was frozen. She was in a bubble, moments after she was born. I was stunned. I moved when Mike told me to move. My mind was blank. She was going to be rushed to the ICU for obvious reasons. I was in awe and my thoughts were slow. We just had a baby. I walked through the crowd in time to see my daughter as she was pushed out of the room. She was so beautiful and looked just like her mother.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
March 20th, 2013 Part II
I was woken up around 7am by the most intense pain I'd ever heard before; her hand grabbed my arm so incredibly tight. The previous night and day but amplified ten times. She couldn't get up and could barely move. It was so different this time that she finally let me call an ambulance.
"I need an ambulance. My girlfriend is having intense abdominal pains and she can't move." The responder then asked, what I hadn't considered in many months, what was so ridiculously obvious, what we had been so sure was NOT possible,"How long has she been pregnant?"
She had taken four pregnancy tests in the last seven months, all negative. She hadn't gained any weight, she had gotten compliments on her figure back home in December. And of course there are other 'requirements' for being pregnant that were, unfulfilled. Or so, two reasonably smart, responsible young adults, thought. Knew. It was impossible. Several biology classes had told me so. I don't feel comfortable (and it's truly not my place) elaborating any further, but you'll have to trust me here.
When the EMTs arrived they were understandably confused at our assertions that she was not pregnant. They began to search for other answers. The females quickly discussed the crisis while I gathered a few things and we were quickly on our way. The sudden speculation was an ectopic pregnancy, something I'd never heard of before. We were still certain it was something else. There was a history of ovarian problems in her family, so a tumor maybe? Certainly she couldn't be pregnant. She had been normal and cleared four pregnancy tests!
We got to the ER and were placed in the waiting area; that is until she screamed and cried and couldn't stop. They brought her immediately into the 'super' emergency room, which also doubled as an office. So there I sat. There I listened. They gave me paperwork to distract me but I don't remember touching it. A half dozen nurses and several doctors accumulated. She asserted that she wasn't pregnant but a sonogram was brought in. I heard the doctor say something about a heartbeat and say,"I see a head." She exclaimed in distress and confusion,"I'm pregnant?!?" The response was stern, succinct and I'll never forget it,"You're pregnant," he said,"and you're giving birth right now."
"I need an ambulance. My girlfriend is having intense abdominal pains and she can't move." The responder then asked, what I hadn't considered in many months, what was so ridiculously obvious, what we had been so sure was NOT possible,"How long has she been pregnant?"
She had taken four pregnancy tests in the last seven months, all negative. She hadn't gained any weight, she had gotten compliments on her figure back home in December. And of course there are other 'requirements' for being pregnant that were, unfulfilled. Or so, two reasonably smart, responsible young adults, thought. Knew. It was impossible. Several biology classes had told me so. I don't feel comfortable (and it's truly not my place) elaborating any further, but you'll have to trust me here.
When the EMTs arrived they were understandably confused at our assertions that she was not pregnant. They began to search for other answers. The females quickly discussed the crisis while I gathered a few things and we were quickly on our way. The sudden speculation was an ectopic pregnancy, something I'd never heard of before. We were still certain it was something else. There was a history of ovarian problems in her family, so a tumor maybe? Certainly she couldn't be pregnant. She had been normal and cleared four pregnancy tests!
We got to the ER and were placed in the waiting area; that is until she screamed and cried and couldn't stop. They brought her immediately into the 'super' emergency room, which also doubled as an office. So there I sat. There I listened. They gave me paperwork to distract me but I don't remember touching it. A half dozen nurses and several doctors accumulated. She asserted that she wasn't pregnant but a sonogram was brought in. I heard the doctor say something about a heartbeat and say,"I see a head." She exclaimed in distress and confusion,"I'm pregnant?!?" The response was stern, succinct and I'll never forget it,"You're pregnant," he said,"and you're giving birth right now."
Monday, March 3, 2014
March 20th, 2013
"Congratulations," he said. A blank white face stared back at him in awe and disbelief. At least, that's what I imagine Mike the EMT saw; the face of a young man who had been confronted by mortality. I'd seen the unbelievable emerge into a world not knowing she existed. In many ways it was like meeting God; having the miraculous happen. I had always hoped miracles were real or, more accurately, the supernatural. But everyone has dreams. My logical cynical self would have never condoned or endorsed the notion that such a day was possible; an event only describable as a miracle.
She called me on her way home from work, a Monday night; she wasn't feeling well. She had begun to feel abdominal cramps during her shift at the Cafe but she was strong. As I would soon see, she was stronger than I could have ever imagined. She took a few ibuprofen when she got home. They didn't help. In bed, she tossed and groaned in pain; it worried me to the point of physically making me ill but I listened when she assured me she would be alright. She was taking a trip back home Wednesday and assured me she would see her family doctor when she arrived. Time and again I asked her if she needed me to call an ambulance and the answer remained the same. I got her some Nyquil. She didn't get more than a few hours of sleep. Something was defiantly wrong. She startled out of sleep, squeezing my arm like it was the last time she would.
It was a long strange night followed by an even stranger morning and surreal afternoon. I had to go to work but she had the day off to prepare for her vacation. I didn't want to leave her of course and I'm still ashamed to say I did. Not that she begged me to stay, but I was wrong. No matter how many times she assured me that she didn't need a trip to the emergency room, how could I have left my best friend at home in so much pain? I had the order of things all backwards. My day at work was brief and worried as I told my boss and mentor about the experience of the night before. She called me a few hours later. Though she had managed to get a few more hours of sleep, now she needed my help.
As a stressed, often depressed, growing young man, I had always felt a strong compulsion to fufill my 'professional' responsibilities; I was frightened. I was frightened of letting my coworkers down and even more frightened of getting in trouble. But I knew that this wasn't just some childish call for comfort, despite her calm tone and confident resolve, something was seriously wrong. I wasn't scared, I wasn't afraid, I had no idea what hell was going on; all I knew was that it was out of my hands. When I got home with more medicine, she said she had been feeling better but that it was short lived. In another act of shame, I told her I could only stay a bit because I had told my boss that I'd be back to work; that is unless she needed to go to the ER. She did not want to go to the ER. At this point, seeing her in this vulnerable state, clearly needing me, there was no way I was going back to work. I still lied to my boss and said we were on our way to a clinic.
As the night went on her pain got worse. I laid next to her through the sleepless night waiting for her to squeeze my arm and cry in pain in between periods of what was undoubtedly shallow sleep. She was exhausted. Every time it seemed like the pain was subsiding, it came back worse and she would do everything to hold in screams of agony. At this point she was probably sure she was dying. My mind was inexplicably calm. Should have I been preparing for the worst? Nothing, nothought, could have prepared me for what would happen next.
She called me on her way home from work, a Monday night; she wasn't feeling well. She had begun to feel abdominal cramps during her shift at the Cafe but she was strong. As I would soon see, she was stronger than I could have ever imagined. She took a few ibuprofen when she got home. They didn't help. In bed, she tossed and groaned in pain; it worried me to the point of physically making me ill but I listened when she assured me she would be alright. She was taking a trip back home Wednesday and assured me she would see her family doctor when she arrived. Time and again I asked her if she needed me to call an ambulance and the answer remained the same. I got her some Nyquil. She didn't get more than a few hours of sleep. Something was defiantly wrong. She startled out of sleep, squeezing my arm like it was the last time she would.
It was a long strange night followed by an even stranger morning and surreal afternoon. I had to go to work but she had the day off to prepare for her vacation. I didn't want to leave her of course and I'm still ashamed to say I did. Not that she begged me to stay, but I was wrong. No matter how many times she assured me that she didn't need a trip to the emergency room, how could I have left my best friend at home in so much pain? I had the order of things all backwards. My day at work was brief and worried as I told my boss and mentor about the experience of the night before. She called me a few hours later. Though she had managed to get a few more hours of sleep, now she needed my help.
As a stressed, often depressed, growing young man, I had always felt a strong compulsion to fufill my 'professional' responsibilities; I was frightened. I was frightened of letting my coworkers down and even more frightened of getting in trouble. But I knew that this wasn't just some childish call for comfort, despite her calm tone and confident resolve, something was seriously wrong. I wasn't scared, I wasn't afraid, I had no idea what hell was going on; all I knew was that it was out of my hands. When I got home with more medicine, she said she had been feeling better but that it was short lived. In another act of shame, I told her I could only stay a bit because I had told my boss that I'd be back to work; that is unless she needed to go to the ER. She did not want to go to the ER. At this point, seeing her in this vulnerable state, clearly needing me, there was no way I was going back to work. I still lied to my boss and said we were on our way to a clinic.
As the night went on her pain got worse. I laid next to her through the sleepless night waiting for her to squeeze my arm and cry in pain in between periods of what was undoubtedly shallow sleep. She was exhausted. Every time it seemed like the pain was subsiding, it came back worse and she would do everything to hold in screams of agony. At this point she was probably sure she was dying. My mind was inexplicably calm. Should have I been preparing for the worst? Nothing, nothought, could have prepared me for what would happen next.
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